


dust to dust

by lusterrdust



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Divorce, F/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, bughead - Freeform, coast setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: Betty’s head snaps over toward the boy, his lanky form leaning over his patio with the cigarette hanging from his fingers. Her stomach turns strangely at the way the moonlight highlights his features, accentuating his cheekbones and the inky black hair that falls over his eyes in soft curls.He raises a brow at her and takes a deep drag of his cig before continuing. “Welcome to Riverdale.” [bughead au]DISCONTINUED





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking a lot of creative liberties with this one, hope you enjoy it just the same
> 
> unbeta'd

 

 

 

>  ▱◯♕
> 
> _“Something wicked this way comes.”_  
>  _—William Shakespeare_
> 
>  ◯

Her mother is pushing things into her closet, hanging her and her sister’s clothes up next to her cousin’s. The pastels are bright to the blacks and grays lined up inside, like some reminder she’ll notice daily, telling her she doesn’t belong here.

“Now, I know this is a big change, but it’s only temporary, Betty.” Alice tells her, standing back as she turns around to grab more clothing that’s sitting next to her on the bottom bunk. The room is small, with only a tall dresser at the corner, an antique looking desk, and a three person bunk she’s now sharing with her sister and cousin. “Why don’t you go outside with your sister and Sabrina?”

It’s a double bed on the bottom she’ll be sleeping on with Polly, and Sabrina on top.

“Am I going to have to change my name?” Betty asks, staring at her knees as she thinks over their situation in her head for the millionth time. She can’t imagine not being Elizabeth Cooper anymore.

Her mother looks up and sighs, putting the clothes back down before sitting beside her. Her hand squeezes her knee lightly. “Of course not, sweetheart.” Alice reassures.

“How could he leave us?” Betty whispers with furrowed brows, thinking of her father. Technically, she knows why. Her new stepmother three states away is answer enough, but it still doesn’t quell the ache she feels at how expendable her family had been to him.

“Betty,” her mother exhales with a frown before there’s a knock at the open door.

They look up, and Betty feels a smile tug at her lips at her aunt, her mother’s youngest sister, standing there with a colorful drink in hand. Her strawberry blonde hair falls over her left shoulder in a long braid and she gives the glass a little shake. “Strawberry Daiquiri, anyone?”

Alice gives a short glare. “Hilda—“

“Relax.” Hilda rolls her eyes before walking in and handing Betty the drink. “It’s a virgin.”

There’s a quick wink thrown her way, completely missed by Alice’s gaze that makes Betty feel the slightest bit okay about their situation. “Thank you, Aunt Hilda.”

Hilda raises her arms and scrunches her nose. “Okay. No. No, _aunt_. Just Hilda. I’m only twenty-eight, Lizzy. Not quite hag status.”

“Yet.” Alice remarks, earning a glare before Hilda plops down in between them, gaining another eyeroll from her mother.

“I know everything sucks right now, but look on the bright side,” she gestures to the large window across from them. “You can smell the ocean from here. I bet you didn’t have that in Chicago.”

“It _is_ nice.” Betty answers, taking a sip of her drink and forcing the look of mild disgust at the sharp taste of alcohol away before her mom sees it. “Sabrina said it took her a while to get used to being here, too.”

“Yeah.” Hilda says quietly, looking to Alice. “She looks like Edward more and more every day.”

Betty knows not to speak of her departed uncle, so she takes another drink and remains silent as the two sisters begin to talk.

Later in the evening, when she’s sitting around the table with her family, Sabrina assuring her and Polly that Southside High isn’t bad at all, Betty feels her stomach flutter with nerves. Sabrina and Polly are a year older than her. They’ll have each other. But her? She’ll have no one.

“You guys can meet Ernie, Anette, and Jughead. They live in the other trailers near us.” She explains, biting into her garlic bread. “Jughead’s a Junior, too. Pretty quiet though.”

Betty thinks Jughead is a peculiar name, but doesn’t say anything, twirling her spaghetti around her fork before taking a bite. Her head feels a little fuzzy by her earlier drink, but she’s less tense, and joins in on the dinner conversation.

“I know things seem cramped right now—“ Hilda begins before their aunt Zelda grimaces and interrupts.

“ _Cozy_.” Zelda says, looking to Betty and Polly with a soft smile. “This trailer isn’t huge, but we have all the space we need. It’s cozy with the six of us, and it’ll give us all the chance to work on our craft together—“

“Zel.” Alice interjects sharply.

“Arts and crafts.” Hilda throws in, looking between her two sisters and Sabrina before glancing back to Betty and Polly. She gives a smile that seems a bit too artificial. “We do crafts every Saturday.”

“Like scrapbooking?” Betty asks, raising a brow as she looks over to the impressive stacks of books and journals squeezed inside the built-in hutch at the far end of the living room.

“Yes.” Alice nods, stabbing her food as she gives her younger sisters a pointed look. “Scrapbooking.”

“I love scrapbooking.” Polly adds politely as Sabrina smiles and grabs another piece of bread.

After dinner and showers, Betty lies awake beside her sleeping sister. In the small home, every noise is amplified, and the wind outside rustles the leaves of the trees surrounding the small mobile home park. She can smell the ocean, just as Hilda had told her, and lets her hand drag over her small tabby cat’s fur.

There’s so much change, Betty feels as though she’s dreaming. The last few days feel like a blur and she’s slowly gaining track that _this_ is her reality now. She’s living with five other women in a three-bedroom trailer, where the bathtubs and toilets are pink porcelain and the carpets are shaggy brown. She no longer has her own bed, or her own room. The view outside her window isn’t a loud city, but quiet nature.

She can no longer visit her brother in his small downtown apartment any time she wants or bring lunch to her father’s work at the _Chicago Tribune_.

No, Betty is states away now, about to enter the middle of her junior year at a completely different school where she’ll know nobody in her grade or have any of her old curriculums from her former private school.

The bedroom door creaks open, stirring her from her thoughts and Betty realizes Sabrina’s cat has padded himself into the room. He meows loudly at her, gaining a look of disdain from Caramel before pawing at her hand and propping himself against the bed to get her attention.

Not wanting the noise to wake up the whole house, Betty slips out of the sheets and pulls a thin cardigan off the bunkbed ledge before following the black cat. “What is it, Salem?”

He leads her to the kitchen and slips through the small animal flap in the back door before Betty unlocks it and walks outside. Meowing loudly, he rubs against her ankle while she notices his empty food bowl and picks it up.

“Um…” She bites her lip, looking back at the door. She hadn’t seen any cat food inside and is unsure where it’s stored. She debates waking Sabrina up before looking over the garden toward the tiny shed about ten feet away. The door is slightly ajar, swinging lightly with the wind and she pulls her sweater tighter, feeling her bare legs break out in goosebumps at the chill before walking over to close it.

“Oh!” she smiles, spotting a bag of cat food inside before walking in to scoop some out into the bowl. Suddenly there’s something wet on the back of her thigh and she squeals, the small pieces of food hitting the ceiling as she jumps before falling over the bag and onto her ass. Her head hits the shelves of gardening tools, bringing them down over her face as her heart pounds loudly against her chest at the noise it creates.

There’s a booming bark of a dog before her face is being covered in saliva with wet kisses. “What the—Hey!”

_“Hot Dog!”_

There’s a hiss outside the shed, the voice of a guy, that makes Betty scramble to her feet.

Her assailant? A shaggy sheepdog, who’s now eating the fallen bits of food with no regard to the owner searching for him. In her haste to get up, along with the lack of light, Betty trips over the open bag of food again and braces herself for impact as she falls forward this time.

She never meets the ground.

Instead, Betty blinks her eyes open to gray flannel and swallows thickly when realizing she’s fallen _into_ someone.

Recoiling backward, she feels her face flame and her heart quicken in fear at being alone outside in nothing but her sleeping clothes, in a neighborhood that doesn’t even allow fences to separate trailers for privacy or security, with a guy who looks about her age. “Oh, my—“

“What’re you doing out here?”

Her fear is quickly squashed at his accusatory tone and in noticing the stranger is looking at her like she has two heads. Indignant at his tone _(and the fact he hadn’t even asked if she was alright after falling, twice!),_ Betty wipes the dirt off her shorts and grimaces. This was _her_ family’s garden and shed after all. She could be out here if she wanted to.

“I live here.” She retorts, glancing down at the dog now eating the food by her feet. “What’re _you_ doing here?”

The boy gives her a narrow look. “No, you don’t. I’ve never seen you around here before and no one’s moved out of this park since 2003.”

Affronted at his lack of manners toward someone who has done nothing wrongful to him, Betty clenches her fist and moves her foot when the sheepdog begins to lick at her toes. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she begins in a clipped voice, “but I just moved in with my family this morning.”

Pointing to her aunt’s home, she then lowers her hand and folds her arms over her chest, realizing in a moment of panic that she’s braless. Her cheeks heat up again.

He looks a little abashed at this information, stern expression dropping as his blue eyes lower to the pet bowl in her hand and Salem waiting on the porch. “Oh.”

Betty sniffs, glancing down to the dog and resisting the urge to pet it as it looks up at her and wags his tail adorably. She scoops more food into the bowl and brushes past the stranger, the white dog following her before she’s shutting the shed door properly. “You live here then, too?” she asks, an uncertain grimace still on her face.

The stranger digs into his pocket and pulls out a smoke before lighting it, forcing her nose to scrunch in distaste as she takes a step back toward the patio.

“All my life.” He answers, exhaling gray out as the smoke billows in her direction. She glares at him and waves it away with her free hand, watching as he purposely blows his next one out in the opposite direction.

“Those will kill you, you know.” Betty lectures cautiously, feeling the air hang around them in awkward silence.

“I’m counting on it.” The boy shrugs nonchalantly before reaching down to pull at the sheepdog’s collar. “Come on, Hot Dog.”

Betty is left standing at the steps of the patio, just about to head back inside when the stranger speaks again from the trailer next to hers. “Hey, blondie!”

Betty’s head snaps over toward the boy, his lanky form leaning over his patio with the cigarette hanging from his fingers. Her stomach turns strangely at the way the moonlight highlights his features, accentuating his cheekbones and the inky black hair that falls over his eyes in soft curls. He raises a brow at her and takes a deep drag of his cig before continuing. “Welcome to Riverdale.”

There’s a sarcastic lilt to his welcome and Betty quickly tucks her hair behind her ear before shuffling inside without giving him a response. There’s a clinking of nails on ceramic to her left and Betty turns her head to spot Sabrina sitting on the counter, giving her quirked lips.

“Tea?” the ashen-haired teen lifts her mug up, gesturing to the small Keurig crammed between the toaster and microwave.

“Sure.” Betty licks her lips, looking once more toward the door before perching herself onto the counter beside her cousin. She waits for the water to pour and they watch as Salem comes sliding through the small cat flap from outside.

“That’s Jughead.”

Blue eyes dart toward her freckled cousin, and Betty feels slightly confused. “What?”

“Jughead.” Sabrina repeats, leaning over the sink to push the lace curtains back as she looks outside. “He’s weird, but harmless. You’ll see him tomorrow at school.”

“Everyone is a little weird.” Betty replies quietly, watching the dark brown color of her tea billow out in the water of her mug as it steeps.

Sabrina taps her nose before taking a sip of her own drink again.

“…I’m sorry about your dad.” She says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Betty stares at Sabrina for a long moment, suddenly feeling insensitive in her obvious sadness over her situation when her cousin’s had been so much worse. As if Sabrina can read her mind, Betty feels her hand on her thigh and hears her words, free of judgement. “It’s okay to grieve. Even if they’re not completely gone.”

“I guess I’m just…adjusting.” Betty finally says, catching her gaze with a grateful look for her understanding. “It _is_ nice seeing you guys again.”

“Yeah.” Sabrina smiles at her before placing her mug in the sink and hopping off the counter. “I could’ve went longer without Polly’s sleep-talking though.”

Betty chuckles and finishes off her tea before placing it in the sink as well. “Sabrina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

As they make their way down the hall into their bedroom, the herbs and flowers outside in the garden sway gently with the breeze, their seashell and thimble wind-chime dancing to the soft tinkling melody it makes. Tucked carefully under the steps of the porch, lays an iron cauldron filled with glass jars, embraced by cobwebs and weeds.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd
> 
> Written on my phone, so there's probably errors. Just excuse them for now.

> ▱◯♕ 

"Check."

Betty furrows her brows at the chess pieces in front of her before grimacing at her aunt. "You can't do that. Knights don't move diagonally."

Hilda leans back on her chair, the front legs coming off the carpet as she hangs her arm over the back of it lazily. " _This_ knight follows whatever order his Queen commands, and _this_ Queen orders him seven spaces there."

"You've heard the saying that cheaters never win, right?" Betty quips with curved lips before reaching forward to move her spade across the board. "Checkmate."

Hilda frowns as her chair tips back onto the ground. "Wha—"

Betty only grins in victory before her mom comes walking in, Zelda behind her. Looking to her blonde aunt, Betty gestures to the ingredients laid out on the counter. "Need help with dinner?"

"I've got it, honey." Zelda answers as Alice gives Hilda a reproachful look for the bottle of Blue Moon on the table.

"It's 4 P.M. on a Thursday, Hilda. Should you really be drinking another one?" She remarks dryly.

"Yeah." Hilda draws the word out before bringing the bottle up with a cheeky grin. "That means it's happy hour, Ali. Maybe you should have one and lighten up."

As she takes a generous gulp, her mother rolls her eyes and turns to her. "Why aren't you out with Polly? I thought Sabrina mentioned something about going to Pop's after school?"

Betty grimaces at the reminder.

"Did she not invite you? I'll be having a talk with her when she gets home if—"

"Mom," Betty interrupts, exasperated. The protective streak her mother's acquired since the divorce has been an interesting one, to say the least. She chalks it up to the custody arguments she's heard without meaning to over her mom's speaker phone in the nights she should be sleeping. "She _did_ invite me. I just... there's a test in my physics class tomorrow, and failing is not how I want to leave an impression on the teacher."

As her mom gives her a look of understanding, Hilda scrunches her nose and places her beer bottle on the table. "You turned down a night out with friends to _study_?"

Betty shrugs. "If I'm going to get into Princeton—"

"Okay. Stop. You sound almost as nerdy as Harvey." Hilda snorts before Zelda swats her with a dishrag.

"Don't listen to her, Lizzy." Zelda says, though Betty isn't offended at all. She's quickly adjusted to her younger aunt's rather... _loud_ personality. "This is why you have a 4.0 and Miss America here graduated with a 2.9."

"Hey!"

"Would you mind going to garden and fetching me some rosemary, dear?" Zelda changes the subject quickly, pulling her apron on as she begins to prep for dinner.

"Sure." Betty pushes herself away from the table and picks up Caramel before walking to the back door. "Where is it exactly?"

"By the gate." Zelda tells her before pointing her wooden spoon at her. "Always keep rosemary by your garden's gate."

Nodding with a small grin, Betty slips outside. Petting the tabby in her hands, she kisses her head before depositing her at the food bowl. Thinking of Hilda's words, Betty wonders if she _should've_ gone out with Polly and Sabrina.

However, the longer she mulls it over, the easier the answer ' _no_ ' comes to mind. Hanging out with Sabrina and her boyfriend from a rival school is not exactly her idea of a good time. Not to mention, his friend would be joining as well—some red headed jock named Jason, of whom Polly had been gushing over since lunch when Sabrina had shown them his Instagram.

Though the excuse about studying for her test tomorrow wasn't exactly a lie, the brunt of her polite refusal to the invite had simply been the avoidance of becoming a fifth wheel. Tagging along with a couple and her sister on a mission? Hard pass.

Kneeling by the miniature white gate enclosing her aunt Zelda's impressive garden, Betty spots the herb and begins to lightly pick at it, humming under her breath as the earthy scent is mixed with floral and ocean breeze.

Though she's still adjusting to life here in Riverdale, she can't exactly say she misses the smell of Chicago. The air here is crisp and invigorating, and the shore has become her favorite place to jog in the mornings before school.

Thinking of her past week at a new school, Betty's eyes drift over to the trailer next door as her thoughts are suddenly of a leather jacket wearing brood who had completely dissed her, her first day.

"Mind if I join you?" She'd asked, gripping her lunch tray as the full cafeteria had rattled her nerves with its intimidating capacity. While their encounter the night prior hadn't exactly made them friends, nor acquaintances, he was a familiar face in a blur of strangers.

Except, she learned rather quickly, that Jughead was anything but welcoming. Looking up from his food, mouth stuffed with a burger, he'd regarded her with furrowed brows and an almost bizarre type of sneer.

Betty had held her ground though, fingernails digging into plastic tray as she shuffled her feet and waited for a response. Jughead, however, never gave one. He had simply stared at her as if she grew another head. She remembers the heat in her cheeks and the feeling of eyes on her as she stood there like a fool.

Ducking her head, she'd murmured a quick "nevermind" and scurried out of the cafeteria and into the bathroom, eating her lunch in shame and embarrassment in a bathroom stall.

Of course, when Polly and Sabrina found out, they'd insisted she join them from now on.

The attention she's garnered from the students at Southside High isn't exactly the kind anyone would hope for. In a sea of monochromatic sterility and flannels, her pinks, baby blues and white collared shirts were the pop of unwanted colors staining the edgy reputation the Southside was apparently trying to uphold.

Even Polly had taken to change her wardrobe up; agreeing to be Sabrina's very own real life Barbie doll, she'd been giddy in letting their cousin dress her in her clothes, swapping her pastels for darker, more daring outfits.

There's a creak of a screen door that pulls Betty back from her thoughts and to her crouched position in the garden. She notices it's from the trailer next door. A man, handsome, but older and rugged looking, comes hurrying down the steps and toward the shed identical to her aunts'.

He's covered in oil and when she hears the clinking of tools drift from inside, her heart clenches with the pangs of missing her dad and the days they would idly hang out in their old garage, tinkering with tools and automobiles.

The man walks out of the shed and out of sight, toward the front of their trailers. Curiosity piqued, Betty jogs up the steps of the porch and leaves the herbs at the open kitchen window before making her way toward the front of the house.

Kneeled down at the back of a mustard yellow VW bus she hadn't seen in all the week she'd been there, Betty watches as the man rubs a hand over his face in befuddlement to the guts of the vehicle in front of him.

Despite its rather dilapidated exterior, Betty is already in love with the bus. Her eyes fall to the back and she can't help but take a few steps forward, walking into his yard.

"Is that the 1972 model?" She questions, startling the man as he turns and gives her a confused once-over before standing upright and looking toward the vehicle.

"Er, yeah."

"That's the 1700 series engine, isn't it?" She questions, watching as his brow quirks in intrigue. Betty tilts her head to get a better look before spotting a brand new engine at the bottom step of his porch. "Are you swapping it out?"

The man, resigning to her sudden presence or pulled back to his concentration, simply nods and kicks a tire lightly.

"That's the plan." He says. "It was a gift for my son's birthday last month, but the jackass who sold it to me forgot to mention the damn thing doesn't run. Had to tow it over."

So this was Jughead's dad, Betty muses as she nods at his explanation.

"You're missing a few tools." She tells him, inspecting his lackluster pile. "You're going to need a 13 and 15mm socket, and an ATV jack for the transport wouldn't hurt, either."

He gives her another look, one tinged with being mildly impressed before she shrugs sheepishly, knowing she's not exactly the spitting image of a grease monkey.

"I used to help my dad out with this kind of stuff." She explains at his unasked question, earning a small ' _ah_ ' of understanding. "I have a box of tools in my closet. Would you like a hand?"

Betty tries to keep the excitement out of her voice, but it's difficult. The eagerness she feels to disassemble parts she's never touched before, and on a new engine to a car she's only ogled at through the Internet, her fingers are itching to get a hold of them.

He glances to her trailer and then back at her, not at all oblivious to her passion for the work. He mulls it over a few seconds before throwing his hands up lightly. "Sure. What the hell."

Betty refrains from clasping her hands together in excitement, but doesn't stop from smiling widely.

After an hour, she learns the man's name is FP. She also learns he's married and has a six year old daughter named Jellybean, of whom is with her mother visiting relatives in California. Betty finds he's pretty good at holding a conversation and being friendly, unlike his son.

It's just about sunset when approaching footsteps capture her attention, and her head swivels to see denim, leather and a gray beanie.

Jughead catches her gaze and halts in confusion, his eyes moving from hers to his father's form, halfway submerged under the bus.

FP's hand sticks out. "Pliers."

Betty hands him the tool before looking back to Jughead. "...Hi."

His brows furrow and his hands come out from his pockets to cross over his chest. "Hi..?"

"That you, son?"

Betty stands up as FP rolls out from under the vehicle, smiling easily when he spots him.

"Your prodigal son returns." Jughead states wryly before raking his eyes over Betty's now dirty form. She doesn't know why, but his gaze has her folding her arms across her chest self consciously. It's not that it's lewd in any way—it's just that it's so... _piercing_.

Betty assumes it has something to do with the deep blue of his eyes and the stony demeanor they seem to exude almost permanently.

"Thank you for letting me help out, Mr. Jones." She says politely, eager to avoid any more awkward encounters from the anti-social boy in front of her.

"I should be thanking _you_." FP replies with a low chuckle, wiping his hands on a soiled rag. He bends down to collect her tools before she shakes her head.

"You can hang onto those." She tells him. "Until the engine's put in."

"You sure?" FP asks as Jughead continues to stare, his lips curved downward and his brow creased in observation.

"Of course." Betty nods, patting her hands off her denim skirt and clenching them nervously at her side. "I'd better get home now. Dinner's probably almost done."

"Have a good night, Betty." He responds, giving a grateful nod to her generosity. "Tell your aunt Zelda I'm still waiting on that peach cobbler she promised months ago."

Betty chuckles and tucks her hair behind her ear, glancing at Jughead and feeling her cheeks heat up when realizing his intense stare hasn't dropped. "I'll be sure to let her know."

Later that night, when Betty's lying in bed with Polly, hearing her recount the "amazing date" she'd had with this Jason fellow, she rolls onto her front and closes her eyes, making her sister rub her back as she fades into slumber.

Betty dreams of blue that night.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been incredibly busy, incredibly unmotivated, and incredibly stressed lately
> 
> please forgive the tardiness of this update xoxo
> 
> unbeta'd

> ▱◯♕

November slips slowly into December, the fall leaves on the ground being hidden by the snow. It’s then that Betty discovers her aunt’s love for the holiday season. Walking out into the hall, she sees her family gathered around the table, a pile of _stuff_ laying in the middle of it. She slows her steps and raises a brow, still getting used to their bizarre tics.  

“What’s going on here?” she questions, lips curving at the lopsided Santa hat Polly’s wearing on her head.

Polly perks up at her presence and smiles widely, patting the empty seat next to her as Sabrina and her aunts look up and greet her. Betty settles in at Polly’s side and looks at the items on the table. There’s flower petals, cinnamon sticks and different sorts of greenery, all being plucked from and stuffed into clear glass ornaments. She raises a brow curiously.

“Here,” Polly thrusts an empty ornament in her hand before looking up when their mother walks in with a tray of cocoa and tea.

“I thought I heard you.” Her mother greets Betty with a kiss to the forehead before placing a cup of hot chocolate in front of her and giving everyone else their own warm drinks. For a moment, Betty forgets the ache in missing her dad and brother, and feels blissfully…normal.

“Sleep well, Lizzie?” Hilda asks, plucking a cinnamon stick from the pile and using it to swirl her tea.

“I think I’m starting to like the wind chimes.” She responds with a quirk of her lips. Normally, she needs absolute silence to fall asleep, and with Zelda’s affinity for homemade wind chimes in a breezy town—well, it had been a bit of an adjustment to get used to. But now, Betty finds she can no longer sleep without the quiet tinkling of bells and shells.

“I had a feeling you would warm up to them.” Zelda answers with a glint in her eye.

“Or maybe Zel’s been slipping nightshade into your tea.” Sabrina chortles, not looking up from her own task of arranging her ornament.

Zelda gives a disapproving glare before looking to Betty. “I’d never—“

“That’s quite enough.” Alice interrupts with an eyeroll before lifting her mug to her lips. Her eyes slide over to Betty and she gathers a few items before placing them at her reach. “Here.”

“Oh!” Polly leans over, studying the sprigs and buds. “That’s for…family peace. Right, Hilda?”

“Hey, you’re catching on pretty quick, Pols.”

Polly smiles proudly at herself as Betty studies the items. Rubbing the remainder of sleep from her eyes, she takes a sip of her cocoa and follows her family’s lead on decorating. _Silver Bells_ is playing lowly in the background and the crackling of the fire has Betty feeling warm all over.

“…there’s a feeling of Christmas…” Zelda sings softly, her voice low as she then hums contentedly.

Later in the day, when their trailer is decorated from every nook and cranny like some type of hub for the North Pole, Betty helps Zelda tend her garden and soaks up the information about how to care for it during colder seasons. She’s grown to enjoy gardening, and with the whimsical way her aunt has their own set up, it’s not really a surprise.

She’s crouching down, Caramel in her arms as Zelda patiently talks to her about the importance of their earlier harvest and the preparations for next spring. There's a small dusting of snow over the ground, and she's startled when a voice calls out from the next yard over.

“Spellman!”

Betty and Zelda look over to see FP Jones leaning over his porch railing, a cigarette in his hand. She smiles widely and waves at him, having developed a friendly relationship while working on Jughead’s bus the last few weeks. He nods his head at her and then looks to her aunt with a crooked smile. “Already a week into December and no basket of your famous chocolate chunk cookies? I’m wounded.”

Everything about the older man reminds Betty of his son. They’re remarkably similar, though she’ll never say that aloud. Especially since Jughead isn't exactly the friendliest of people she’s ever met. Sure, on days he'd come across her and his dad working on his VW, he’d greet her politely and occasionally try to make small talk, but that was it.

At school, he doesn’t speak a word to her. Not that she cared.

Betty had gained a new friend at school—two, in fact.

On a particular day where Polly and Sabrina had ditched, herself declining the invite, she’d been about to avoid the embarrassment of not having anywhere to sit by making way to the bathrooms again when a boy in her grade, dark hair and eyes that were warm like chocolate—he’d kicked the empty seat across from him out and gave her a pointed look to sit with him.

“Don't look so deer in the headlights, new girl.” 

“I prefer to go by Betty.” She’d responded with a grimace before his lips curved. 

“Well, you’re definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” He’d leaned back in his chair and took a bite of his apple before introducing himself. “Joaquin.”

Ethel came shortly after, the two of them literally bumping into each other in the library and discovering their similar tastes in literature. Since then, Betty was glad to say she was no longer suffering the clichéd 'loner in a new school' role.

“You get greedier every year, Forsythe.” Zelda retorts, pulling Betty from her thoughts as she watches the use of his proper name roll off his back. They stand up then, and she lowers Caramel to the ground before the cat sprints away at the sight of Hot Dog padding out from the neighboring trailer and into the yard.

When Jughead slips out behind the dog, his electric blue eyes falling to her own, Betty looks away and follows her aunt back inside.

… … …

One of the lovelier perks of living in Riverdale, Betty discovers, is the trail behind the trailer park that leads to the ocean. It’s about a mile away, and through thin woodlands that offer more beauty she’d ever beheld in Chicago. The dip of sand beneath her sneakers makes her legs burn in the most delightful way, and the sharp scent of saltwater invigorates her senses.

She wakes up at four thirty every morning to run, and revels in the fact not a soul is awake but her.

Except for today.

Today, she's not the only one up at such an early hour.

Coming back from her run, her chest burning and her face and hair damp with sweat, Betty halts at the sight of Jughead sitting on his porch, his head down and an unlit cigarette being played with between his fingers. There is obviously something wrong, if not shown in his posture, then definitely by the rim of red lining his eyes.

Her throat closes in awkwardness, not sure if she should ask if he’s alright or avoid a possibly scathing remark to brush her off. However, when she hears the small sniff from him, her mouth forms into a grimace and she pushes her nerves aside before cautiously walking up to him.

His eyes snap up to her own, obviously startled at her presence, and they immediately harden before he wipes his sleeve over his nose and lights his cigarette up. “Do you normally sneak up on people, or do you just have a talent for it?”

“Are you okay?” she questions quietly, ignoring his dry remark as she steps closer.

“Fine.” He responds before his eyes narrow and he takes a drag of his smoke. “What do you care?”

Betty grimaces, not through offense, but in concern. It’s obvious he’s hurting about something, and her heart clenches at the thought. She’s always been empathetic to other people’s pain, and right now, she feels as though he’s hurting deeply.

At her silence, Jughead clenches his jaw and exhales roughly before focusing his gaze on the cigarette in his fingers. “My sister, she's...she's sick."

At this, Betty sits beside him and clutches his hand, not caring if they’re complete strangers. The hitch in his throat, the crack in his voice…she acts without thought. His eyes snap up to her at the action and she watches the sheen of tears cling to his lashes before he blinks them away.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers, feeling her heart clench when his hand moves to pull away before it pauses and then gently clutches her own.

“They were just supposed to be visiting my grandparents.” He tells her quietly, not knowing fully why he’s decided to. Perhaps he has no one else to tell. Perhaps he's overwhelmed. Regardless of the reason, Betty listens intently and feels her heart ache for his obvious distress. “And then they found out she—she…”

Betty furrows her brows, her chest constricting painfully as her own eyes well with tears. She doesn’t have any more words, and it seems neither does he anymore.

So, they sit together on the steps of his porch.

Two strangers, with only the tinkling of wind chimes to fill the silence before dawn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> guys, this chapter hasn't even been proof-read, so i know there's going to be a ton of errors! i just don't have the oppurtunity to edit right now as i'm on my way out of the house for more overtime (ugh), but i promised i'd get this out to you today, so here you go! i'll edit later, so just keep that in mind before you try to burn me at the stake for grammatical/spelling issues! lol! xoxo

 

> ▱◯♕ 

If Jughead was embarrassed by his display of emotional vulnerability, he didn’t show it that morning to Betty. Instead, he’d simply thanked her in a tone she recognized in her own past when being separated from her family. The moment hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been deprived of a response as her mother had chosen that time to walk out on the porch of their trailer, a cup of coffee in hand.

A raised brow and steady “Elizabeth” was all it took for Betty to stand up and make her way next door, back home.

It’s been a couple days since that morning, and it seems as though Jughead is carrying on as though there are no worries plaguing him. There’s no change in his everyday demeanor, except that in which the looks shared between them now from across the cafeteria or hallways are softer. There’s no harsh lines around his eyes or cold stares anymore.

“I can’t help but feel there’s something illegal or…unnatural in the school feeding us this and calling it food.” Betty murmurs one Friday afternoon, her nose scrunched to the gray looking ‘gravy’ covering the clumpy mashed potatoes on her plate.

“What do you expect with Southside’s generous budget?” Joaquin snorts, twirling the energy drink in his hand on the table. “That funding clout lies with Riverdale High.”

Betty grimaces at that and pushes her plate aside, making a mental note to start bringing her own lunch.

Her friend’s eye flicker past her shoulder and a slow smirk spreads on his lips. Nodding his head, he silently gestures for her to look behind her. “Jones is staring at you again.”

Jones. _Jughead_.

Betty prays there’s no flush on her cheeks as she discreetly turns her head and peeks over her shoulder. To her surprise, and secret delight, Joaquin is right. Jughead’s gaze is heavy as his eyes meet her own unashamedly. He’s surrounded by his friends, all oblivious to his disinterest in their conversation and chattering away amicably. For some reason, Betty feels her heartbeat pick up, and not wanting to make the moment awkward, she lifts her hand and gives a small wave and smile, only to feel it soften in genuine pleasure when he returns the gesture before resuming conversation with his posse.

When she turns around, Joaquin’s brow lifts as he gives her a pointed look and a grin that rivals that of the Cheshire cat’s. Betty scowls lightly at him and digs in her bag for some money to use for the vending machine. She’s not really hungry, but the task will help her avoid questioning from her friend.

Later in the day, Ethel catches her before school ends and asks if she can help arrange tables at the library for the after school tutoring program. Of course she agrees, and in an hour, they’re lifting a table from the middle of the room and shuffling to move it at a further distance.

“He’s cute.” Ethel says, breaking the silence.

Betty blinks in confusion and looks around to the few scattered students still lingering about after hours. Her brows furrow as she tries to spot whom Ethel is talking about before her friend whispers to look behind her. As she’d done earlier that day, Betty swivels her head and glances discreetly over her shoulder before feeling a bubble of amusement swells in her chest when she spots, of course, Jughead at the far end of the library, head down in a book.

She might’ve been suspicious once upon a time of the happenstance in being in the same place all the time as another person, but given the fact the school is small and basically everyone is in everyone’s space most of the time, she doesn’t give it much else thought.

While Betty can’t deny Jughead Jones is a handsome guy, her appreciation for his good looks are overshadowed with concern the longer she stares at him. The dark rings under his eyes stand out harshly under the florescent lighting, and the fatigue in his posture hints that he might not be getting much sleep, if any.

When she and Ethel are finished with their task, Betty excuses herself and makes her way toward her sullen neighbor.

“Aren’t fairytales supposed to cheer a reader up?” she speaks up, recognizing the book in front of him as she catches his attention. “One would think you were reading William Styron or something by look on your face.”

He relaxes in his seat when recognizing her after being startled, and gives her a wry smile before lifting the book from its laid position. “True. But Grimm’s versions are a bit different than dear old Walt’s.”

“Ah.” Betty nods, folding her hands in front of her as she looks to the chair across from him. “May I?”

Jughead nods and adjusts the gray beanie on his head before placing his book back down. Looking at him this closely, Betty bites her lip and sits silently. His gaze never wavers, and she begins to wonder if he stared so blatantly like this with everyone. Taking a short breath, she summons the courage to be blunt before asking, “How are you doing?”

The implication that she’s asking more than just a general friendly question is clear in her tone, and by the look in his eyes, she knows he’s caught it. Jughead closes his book slowly and his gaze is searching—as if he’s trying to decipher her intentions in caring to ask in the first place.

Finally, he sighs and answers, “Just…tired, I guess.” There’s a pause before he lifts the text with one hand lazily, his eyes flickering down to it. “It’s my sister’s favorite. She likes the darker themes.”

 _Family trait?_ she thinks but doesn't voice.

“My mom says she’s even been on a Vincent Price kick lately.”

Betty smiles at that and leans forward, genuinely interested in learning more about Jughead and his family. She thinks maybe whatever it is that’s bothering him will ease if he talks about it. “How old is she?”

His eyes linger on the fingers scuffing the edge of the book’s binding as he answers quietly, “Eight. Only eight.”

There’s a creeping coldness that tightens in Betty’s chest, and for some reason, it’s as thought she can feel his pain. There’s a heartache so palpable, Betty forces down the urge to cry. Cautiously, she reaches her hand across the table and grabs his own, making his eyes snap up in surprise at her bold move. She’s speaking before she can second guess her action or feel embarrassed by it. “She’s lucky to have a brother like you.”

He breathes in sharply at her words before chuckling unamusedly at her, though not unkindly. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’m a good judge of character.” She responds with a playful smile before shrugging. “Plus, my brother has always looked out for me and my sister. I know the signs.”

When he laughs lightly, Betty thinks it becomes him. The sound is pleasant, and it makes him look so much more relaxed. Part of her feels smug in being the one to elicit that response and lifting his mood, if just for the moment. His fingers twitch against hers and she realizes she’s still holding his hand. Extracting it quickly, she fights down a blush but keeps the smile on her face.

Jughead fidgets in his seat before he pulls the leather jacket off the chair next to him. He stands to pull it on, and Betty tries not to blatantly stare at the way his lean muscles become visible under the plain white tee he has on from the movement.

When his eyes catch her own once more, she’s surprised to notice a bit of nervousness in them. It’s gone so quickly that she wonders if she’d seen it at all. “Need a ride home?” he asks, breaking the silence between them as his hands bury themselves in his pockets.

Betty stands as well and glances toward Ethel, noticing the way she’s completely busy in her tutoring. Turning back to Jughead, she grips the lapels of her bag and nods. “Okay.”

The ride goes smoothly, and she spends most of it admiring the bus as they make idle conversation. Their chatting isn’t deep or moving, but it’s not awkward, so she counts it as a small victory. It isn’t until they reach the park that she notices his shift in mood. He’s no longer smiling with humor filled eyes at her, but instead, they’re focused on the group of teens outside her trailer.

Sabrina and Polly are leaning against a polished red Mustang that she knows doesn’t belong to either Harvey or Jason, the two boys laughing loudly over something. There’s another boy with them, one she doesn’t recognize, and the target of Jughead’s glare.

“Sabrina’s pretty boy has impeccable taste in friends.” He mutters dryly, driving past the group to park in front of his own trailer.

Betty frowns, feeling slightly defensive for the boy who’d been nothing but kind to her since meeting when she’d first moved here. “Harvey is a good guy.”

“He has his moments.” Jughead shrugs, turning the key and shutting the bus down. “Befriending Bones wasn’t one of them.”

“ _Bones_?” Betty repeats in humorous snort before backtracking when realizing she’s currently talking to a guy named _Jughead_. Her eyes dart to the group now back to talking amongst themselves and she takes in the handsome brunette with the blue and yellow letterman jacket. “Why? Who is he?”

Jughead’s jaw clenches as he follows her gaze back to ‘ _Bones_ ’. “He’s not a nice guy.”

She frowns at him, irritation building at his vague answer. “O..kay.”

“Let’s just say he didn’t get the nickname ‘bones’ without busting a few in. He’s a jerk, and if I were you, I’d stay away from him.” He responds testily before getting out of the vehicle and leaving her with more questions than answers.

Slightly miffed at his curt response, Betty slides out of the passenger’s seat and purses her lips when he steps up to his trailer and doesn’t even say goodbye. Gripping the strap of her bag, she refrains from scoffing and walks to her house, only to be dragged for a side hug by Harvey.

“Betty Bow Pink, where’ve you been?!” he grins at her before she pulls away from his grip with an amused smile. With Harvey, his good moods are always infectious.

Sabrina moves forward and wraps her arms around her boyfriend, giving Betty a teasing smirk. “Coming home late in Jughead’s car? Betty, love, I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Oh my god,” she rolls her eyes, fighting a smile at her cousin’s good humor. “I was at the library. Jughead was there and he offered me a ride home.”

“Always the brain, never the brawn.” ‘Bones’ jokes, though there’s a hint of cruelty and bitterness to his words that make Betty frown. He walks forward and doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes travel the length of her body. When he grins at her, it’s not soft and kind like Jughead. No, this is predatory, and she’s seen it on a hundred different jerks at her old school. “I’m Bones.”

“Er, pleasure.” She smiles in what she hopes is a convincing manner. Giving her sister a pointed look, she takes a step toward the trailer and makes to leave before Jason looks to her.

“We’re going to Pop’s. Wanna join us?” her sister's... _whatever he is_ , is nice, and if it were just the two couples, Betty might’ve said yes; however, after mulling over Jughead’s words, combined with the uneasy feeling in her gut when looking at Bones, she hopes her tone comes out apologetic when responding with a polite _‘no, thank you’._

“I have a ton of homework.” She lies, giving Sabrina and Polly pointed looks that they accept right away.

“Come on, Harv.” Sabrina drags her boyfriend to the car. “Let's go. I’m starving.”

Once inside, Betty makes her way to her room and dumps her bag on the floor before changing into comfortable clothing. She spends about a half an hour on her homework before the distraction of today’s events force her to give up on her work completely.

Padding down the hallway, she spots Hilda and Zelda at the table with a stack of cards in front of them. She grabs a banana off the counter and plops herself beside them. “Hey.”

“Hi, honey.” Zelda greets, her focus still on her task. “Your mother volunteered to do the grocery shopping today, so she won’t be back for a bit.”

“Hey, Lizzie.” Hilda’s looking intently at the porcelain teapot in the center of the table and raises her gaze. “Come read with me!”

“Um...” Betty smiles unsurely. Before she can question her aunt, Hilda reaches into the cupboard behind her and pulls a small teacup out, the porcelain painted in a pretty floral design with a saucer to match. “What are you guys doing?”

Zelda has a pair of half-moon reading glasses on as she writes fluidly into the card in front of her. “Just getting these Christmas cards written out. I’ll be heading to the post office on Monday after some holiday shopping.” She looks over the rims over her lens and smiles at her. “Would you like to come with me tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes!” Betty nods, thinking of the gifts she needs to buy. She’s still got a bit of money saved up from her old job, and maybe she can find a place that’s hiring here so she can help her mom out. “Thanks, Aunt Zelda.”

“Here.” Hilda sets the teacup filled with some loose tea leaves on the bottom in front of her. Pouring the boiling water out, Betty stares at her aunt strangely and looks down to the stewing leaves.

“Wh—“

“Have you ever read tea leaves before, Betty?” Hilda asks, lifting her own cup and showing her the grains spread inside.

At the question, Zelda snaps her head up as her attention is completely redirected. She looks to her sister disapprovingly and says in a way Betty knows is cautious due to her presence, “Hilda, I don’t think—“

“Come on, it’s harmless fun.” Hilda rolls her eyes before looking back at Betty.

Zelda is not amused. “Alice—“

“Isn’t here.” Hilda interrupts once more as she swivels her body in Betty’s direction. “You don’t mind, right, Lizzie?”

“No.” Betty answers sincerely, though puzzled to the very idea of reading something out of a beverage. She is, however, bored enough to take it in good fun and willing to try. She follows her aunt’s instructions after drinking most of the tea, and feels almost as if her energy has spiked.

“Okay, now turn your cup over,” Hilda guides her, demonstrating with her own cup. They wait a few minutes before her aunt points to the cup. “Now just give it a tap and turn your cup counter-clockwise three times on the saucer, and make sure the handle points back on you.”

From her spot at the end of the table, Zelda’s watching them with a mix of curiosity and annoyance to her sister’s early ignorance of her. She’s lowered her glasses and they hang delicately on a gold chain around her neck.

Betty does as instructed and feels a small bit of apprehension in turning the cup over. It’s just a bunch of hocus pocus, she assures herself, but she can’t help the fluttering in her tummy when she turns the cup right-side up and stares at the loose tea grains scattered inside.

Sitting awkwardly, she looks to Hilda through her lashes and tilts her head at the grainy blobs in front of her. “…Now what?”

Hilda leans closer and peers into her cup while Zelda inclines her head, trying to look disinterested but failing. “Focus. Let your intuition guide you and tell me, what do you see?”

Betty stares hard into the cup, trying to make sense of the patterns inside. For a minute or two, she sees nothing and slumps back with a shrug. “I don’t see anything.”

“You’re not focusing.” Hilda tells her in a firmer tone. She wraps her fingers around Betty’s hand still enclosed around the cup and lifts it. “Look with your mind’s eye.”

 _Her mind’s eye_. Betty almost snorts, but instead tries as her aunt instructs. Sitting taller, she tries again, doing her best to ‘look with her mind’s eye’. She doesn’t know if it’s a trick of her mind, or sheer willpower to find something out of nothing, but Betty starts to make sense of the patterns in front of her.

“I…” she furrows her brows and tilts the cup, staring intently. “I think I see… flowers? A bundle of them, maybe?”

Hilda hums approvingly as Zelda moves over to sit beside her, getting a better view. “A bouquet?”

“I also see bats.” She says lowly, seeing the wings perfectly in her mind’s eye.

Before Betty can elaborate, her youngest aunt gasps and grasps the cup in her grip lightly, tilting it toward her. She looks toward Zelda with parted lips and an expression that makes Betty snap out of her focus. Looking between them two, she frowns. “What? What is it?”

“A cross.” She points, and Betty wonders how it hadn’t been the first thing she’d seen. “Right there.”

It’s larger, curved along the glass as it creeps up the side from the bottom of the cup.

“What does it mean?” Betty asks concernedly, forgetting this is all meaningless anyway by their shaken reactions.

The front door slams open then, startling the three of them as they jump apart. Betty shakily puts her cup down and stands at her mother’s presence. She moves forward to help with the many bags in her grip and pushes her hair from her face. “Here, mom, let me help.”

Alice smiles gratefully and passes her a few bags. “Thanks, honey.”

From the corner of her eye, she watches Hilda hastily put everything on the table away and to the side, out of her mother’s view. Zelda quickly turns some Christmas carols on and begins chatting idly with her mother as Betty stands at the counter, unbagging the groceries.

Tonight, she thinks, she’ll figure out exactly what is was that had her aunts so shaken.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

 

> ▱◯♕ 

“Death. Suffering. Love.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

Betty lowers her phone and gives Joaquin a dry look from his spot across from her. Sat inside Pop’s diner, she’s been less interested with meeting her friend’s new boyfriend and more invested in researching tea leaf readings. Part of her feels silly for even googling ‘tea leaf meanings’ in her phone, but the other part—her gut feeling—is something she can’t ignore.

“This is serious.” She says, sticking a fry in her mouth and turning the screen so he can read the descriptions for himself.

Joaquin doesn’t even glance at her phone. Instead his lips curve in amusement and he leans against the booth, spreading his arms out and lounging as if this is his home. “Really?” he asks, “So we weren’t just talking about some hocus pocus movie?”

Betty holds a retort on her tongue when a preppy looking guy walks in, grabbing Joaquin’s attention. At his side is a dark-haired girl who looks better suited on the front cover of some magazine – not some small town diner.

The word _vixen_ comes to mind and Betty sits a bit straighter in her seat, smoothing her hair down subconsciously as her eyes take in her plain white button down chiffon shirt and faded jeans. Her yellow flats are about the only thing that stand out on her—and that’s including the bumble pin on the left breast of her blouse.

Joaquin stands up and gives the preppy kid a kiss before letting him slide into the booth and following suit. The girl smiles at her and it takes Betty a second to realize she’s waiting for her to scoot over. A blush rises to her cheeks as she apologizes and slides down the booth, making room for the stranger. Joaquin introduces them – or rather, he attempts to before he’s cut off.

“I’m Veronica Lodge.” the girl, Veronica, introduces, extending her hand and giving a shake that has Betty notice the incredible smoothness of her skin and fire red color of her expensive looking manicure. Everything about this girl screams _couture_ ; from the grey fur-collared jacket to black legged jumpsuit paired with bright red pumps that match perfectly with her nails and lips. “And this is Kevin.”

Betty has never felt more underdressed in a damned diner in her whole life.

“You must be Betty. It’s great to finally meet the mysterious Miss Cooper.” Veronica continues without any trace of deceit in her tone. Without waiting for a response, her hand comes up and touches her slightly tanned collar, just fanning the pearls resting there. Her lips part slightly as she stares unabashedly, making Betty wipe discreetly at her face as if something’s on it. “Wow, I’m sorry, you’re just so _Candy_.”

Betty’s eyes widen, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Ewa Aulin?” Veronica says, as if the name is supposed to mean something to her. She waves her hands lightly. “I’ve always believed her to have the most beautiful eyes, but you definitely give her a run for her money.”

She turns then and gives the waiter who’s approached a beaming smile. “Two milkshakes, please. Chocolate and strawberry.” She orders for her and Kevin before turning to Betty and grabbing her hand. “So, tell me, do you miss Chicago? I know how hard it can be being a city girl in a small town world, believe me.”

“Veronica moved here from New York last fall.” Kevin explains with an amicable smile.

“I do miss the city lights, but they’re a hard comparison to the stars out here every night, don’t you agree?”

Betty doesn’t know if she should respond to the compliment about her eyes or keep up with the pace of topics changing. The mention of Chicago brings memories of her former life to her, but it’s not the city she misses. Really, it’s her dad and her brother she aches for the most. “I, uh… Chicago is—“

“Let the girl breathe, Ronnie.” Another voice breaks in and they all turn to see a red headed jock looking fellow pull up a chair before leaning forward to kiss Veronica… er, Ronnie?... _Veronica_ on lips. He stretches his hand out and gives Betty’s a shake. She feels slightly overwhelmed.

He’s handsome, and his freckles are a bit endearing. There’s a genuine sort of aloofness surrounding him, and for the first time since arriving at the Chocklit Shoppe, Betty smiles. There’s something strangely familiar about him…

“I’m Archie.”

The name makes her pause and she furrows her brow, tilting her head slightly before her eyes widen. “Archie… As in Archie Andrews?”

He looks confused then, as well as the three others around them. She curls into herself slightly when they stare at her, awaiting an explanation to her shocked tone. She pulls at her cuffs and bites her lip. “I – We used to know each other. Here, in Riverdale. Sort of. I mean, I used to come down here when I was a kid, to visit my grandparents and we used to…hang out.”

A wave of recognition finally washes over him and his smile is back full force. “Oh, my god! Yeah! I remember! Your grandparents used to live next door to us, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, relieved he’d remembered.

“Oh, little Archie stories?” Veronica smirks, turning to Betty and raising a brow. “Do tell.”

Before Betty can admit that she doesn’t really remember much at all—they _had_ after all been incredibly young, and she’d only be around for three weeks out of the year in the summers (right up until her ninth birthday, that is…), Archie is already answering for her. “We used to play out by Sweetwater River. Skip rocks and plan out designs for a raft that we wanted to travel the world on.”

Veronica and Kevin make simultaneous _aw_ sounds, and Betty chuckles at the vague memories. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Yup,” Archie leans back as the waiter puts down more food and beverages for them. “You, me and Jug.”

“Jug?” Betty’s eyes snap up at the name. “Jughead played with us?”

“You don’t remember?” he asks, reaching over and taking a fry from Joaquin’s plate, oblivious to the irritated look her friend shoots his way. “Well, he didn’t go by Jughead then. We called him JJ, remember?”

Betty sits back against her seat as the image of a scrawny kid with baggy clothes comes to mind. He’d always had a smile on his face, eager to play. She remembers he’d always bring a picnic basket with him, and they’d eat triangle cut sandwiches his mom would make, as well as brownies. Cookies. Juice boxes and chips. “Oh, my god.” She says, revelation kicking in.

The five of them shoot the breeze more comfortably after that and Betty finds herself warming up to these kids from across the tracks but still can’t shake the shock at the knowledge she’d actually been friends with Jughead once upon a time. Still, no one can blame her, as he looked far different than that of his younger counterpart. Had _she_ changed much? Did he not recognize her? He must not have, considering he’d never said a word about it.

She ponders these questions as she walks home after a good meal. Polly texts her asking if she wants to come down to the drive in with her and Sabrina, but the knowledge that her less than savory friends, minus Harvey and Jason, make her respond with a polite ‘no thanks.’ Jason seems nice enough, though she’s heard Sabrina say on more than one account that his twin sister is a bit of a nightmare. And Harvey is a bit like Archie in some respects, but he’s harmless.

Her phone rings and she smiles lightly at her cousin’s picture. “Hey, Brina—“

_“Oh, no you don’t, Betty Cooper. Where are you? You’re coming to the drive in with us! No excuses!”_

“But I—“

 _“Come on, Betty,”_ Polly’s voice chirps in. _“Where’s your Christmas spirit?”_

Despite not understanding what watching a movie and having Christmas spirit have to do with one another, she relents. “Fine. What movie’s playing?”

 _“I Married A Witch_.” Sabrina answers, the grin practically visible through the speaker.

Betty’s brow raises. “I don’t recall that being a holiday film.”

_“Well, not with that attitude it isn’t.”_

She hesitates, “I don’t know...”

“ _You can’t say no to Veronica Lake, Betty. That could practically be a sin. And would you really want to sin on baby Jesus’ birthday?”_

“My, what sound logic you have.” She snorts.

_“All the more to persuade you, my dear.”_

Betty glances at her phone and checks the time, noting the earliness of the evening. All traces of worry over her aunt’s strange behavior and Google’s tea reading descriptions fade away… at least for the moment. Maybe it’s the lightness she feels in having an enjoyable meal with new friends, or maybe it’s pure determination to not be so boring, either way, she agrees.

The Twilight Drive-In is just a few miles away from the beach, and the smell of salt water permeates the air wonderfully as she searches the string of cars lining the lightly snow covered parking area. The smell of buttery popcorn in the air isn’t so bad either.

“You could’ve just let us come get you.” Polly tells her when she finally climbs into the bed of _Bones’_ truck. She gives him a grimaced glance before focusing on the black and white film already playing.

 _“And may this be the fate of all witches, warlocks and sorcerers who attempt to work their evil magic within the township limits—“_ the character on screen cries out as the camera pans from a burning pyre to an older gentleman. _“May thou of thy kind be damned forever into eternal flames!_

“What’d I miss?” Betty asks, settling as far as she can from Harvey’s friends. Bones grins at her but looks away in disinterest, and the boy beside him stares in her direction before blushing and looking away. With Sabrina on Harvey’s lap, and Polly and Jason cozied up with one another, Betty grumbles to herself as she presses uncomfortably to the corner.

“They’ve banished the witch’s spirits away.” Sabrina snickers, pointing her chocolate bar to the screen. “And this dude has a curse on him.”

“Right.” Betty and Polly share an amused look at the casual tone of their cousin’s recap.

Halfway into the movie, Betty has a cramp in her leg and she’s pretty sure her rib is going to bruise by the metal pressed into it. She excuses herself to go to the restroom and walks around the array of vehicles—some of them rocking slightly by sights that make Betty blush and walk faster. She’s confused to where the toilets are and decides to ask for help.

The concession stand is empty, and she knocks a couple times before giving up. The beaming light coming from the small booth just a short distance away catches her attention and she thinks maybe there’s an employee inside. She knocks twice before the door swings open to reveal –

“Jughead!” Betty exclaims before snapping her mouth shut at the unnecessary outburst of surprise. “Sorry, I… You work here?”

Jughead studies her carefully before tapping the worn-out nametag pinned to his flannel shirt. “Uh,” he looks out the door, expecting someone to be with her. “Do you need something?”

“Do you have bathrooms here?” she questions, feeling a sense of awkwardness stretch between them.

He doesn’t answer, and instead walks backwards. For a moment, she thinks he’s just decided to completely ignore her before he’s opening the door wider and inviting her in. Pointing over his shoulder, he gestures to a tiny door at the far end of the room. “There’s no soap.”

She wants to ask what he does when he needs to wash his own hands but decides she’d rather not know. She makes quick work of relieving herself and is glad to always have hand sanitizer on hand before stepping back out into the small dimly lit room. It’s stacked with wide cylinders of film and has a bit of trash and food wrappers strewn about. He turns to look at her as she emerges before facing back toward the window emitting the projection.

“JJ.” She doesn’t know why she says it, but the name causes Jughead’s shoulders to tense up before he once again turns around and gives a raised brow in her direction.

“I had wondered if you’d remember.”

Betty is stumped that he not only remembers her, but had chosen not to say anything. “So we _were_ friends!” she states, walking forward and sitting at an upturned bucket nearby him.

Jughead shrugs. “I suppose we were.”

His dismissiveness should sting, but it doesn’t. Instead Betty presses her hands against her knees and contemplates the foggy memories latched to small parts of her brain. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Would it have mattered?”

Would it? Betty doesn’t really know. She shrugs. “Maybe?”

“It was a long time ago.”

Betty’s lips curve at the natural way melodrama exudes from him. He’s enigmatic, pragmatic and every _matic_ in between, but there’s a predictability, she finds, in his pessimism. Her grin dims at the realization that perhaps it’s because of his family’s struggles that that may now have been the case. “We’re not that old, Juggie.”

His eyes shift over to her then, and she realizes the nickname she’d given him her head had slipped out without thinking. She can feel her cheeks burn but refuses to look away. Instead, she lifts her chin and silently dares him to make a remark on it.

“No,” he responds to her with a quirk of his lips. “I guess not.”

She stands then and begins to look around the room, trailing her fingers over dusty cylinders and reading titles of films she doesn’t recognize. She stops when her eyes fall over a corkboard with random pamphlets and fliers—but it’s a small picture that makes her pause. The sounds from the people outside and the film playing fade away as she reaches for it.

Vague memories sharpen at the bright smiling boy staring up at her, and Betty wonders now how she could’ve forgotten him. He’s holding a baby in his arms and smiling broadly to whoever was taking the picture. He looks…so happy.

“Jellybean.” She turns to find Jughead staring intently at her. “Your sister?”

He stands, moving toward her. He’s close enough that she can smell his cologne, but her gaze can’t tear away from the hues of blue in his gray eyes. His apathetic wall falters as he looks to the photo, nodding. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Feeling a shift in the air, Betty slightly regrets saying anything but her curiosity has always been pointed out as a flaw of hers. “What is it?”

He’s silent for a moment, and she fears she’s crossed the line before his quiet voice breaks the silence. “They call it a Wilms tumor. It’s… It’s some kind of kidney cancer…”

Betty feels her heart break and turns her body, placing her hand on his forearm. She wants to say she’s sorry, but it feels so… so… _not enough._ Without thinking, she wraps her arms around his neck and embraces him, feeling his body stiffen for a full seven seconds before he hesitantly returns the hug.

“She’s lucky to have a brother like you.” She says, repeating the same statement as the day prior. His arms tighten slightly before he pulls away. “To have your love and support.”

“How do you do that?” he questions, looking from her to the photo, and then back to her.

Betty blinks, confused. “Do what?”

Jughead shrugs. “Say the right things?”

“Do I?” Despite the seriousness of the moment, Betty exhales through her nose in amusement. “I feel like I trip over my tongue constantly.”

Jughead makes a noise of partnered amusement. “You do it very gracefully then.”

Graceful. Betty feels a fluttering in her chest. She’s never been described as graceful _anything_ , and she would’ve never guessed the term would’ve made her swoon like she is now, but embarrassingly enough, the compliment makes her stomach flip. She clutches the cuffs of her jacket and looks up at him through her lashes. “Thanks.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, looking away.

Biting her lip, she looks over her shoulder toward the door and wrings her fingers together. She doesn’t exactly want to head back into the truck where everyone’s making out and Bones and his weird friend stares at her the whole night. “Would it be alright… If um,“

“Want to finish the movie in here?” Jughead asks, sensing her hesitancy in asking if she could stay.

Her shoulders lose tension as she nods. “You don’t mind?”

Jughead shrugs and pulls a small loveseat from the corner of the room to the center of it, patting it roughly so that heaps of dust fly off in billows. “You’re not one of those people who ask questions every five minutes, are you?” he gives her a side glance before pulling a knitted blanket over the side and plopping onto the cushion.

“No.”

He grins at her and pats the seat beside him. “Good.”

Betty grins widely.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Forgive me if there's errors, I only re-read it once. Yikes. xoxo

 

 

 

 

> ▱◯♕ 

**Pols**

“Where the hell are you?!” **  
Sent 10:54 PM**

**.**

**Pols**

“Hello!?”  
**Sent 10:55 PM**

**.**

**Pols**

“I swear to god Betts, I’m going to wring your neck when I find you!”  
**Sent 11:02 PM**

**.**

**Pols**

“Okay, I was just kidding with the last text. Are you okay?  
**Sent 11:11 PM**

**.**

**Pols**

Betty??”  
**Sent 11:11 PM**

**.**

**Pols**

“If you don’t answer in five minutes, I’m calling mom.”  
**Sent 11:30 PM**

**.**

**Pols**

“This isn't funny anymore. I’m really worried right now!”  
**Sent 12:22 AM**

**.**

**Mom**

“Elizabeth Cooper, you answer your phone right this minute!”  
**Sent 02:43 AM**

**.**

**38 Missed Calls**

**53 Unread Messages**

**.**

The pounding knock on the door startles Betty awake, and the warmth that had been pressed to her face moves, bringing a rush of heat to her cheeks as she realizes it's not some _thing_ but some _one_. Sitting erect, Betty slaps Jughead’s sleeping form from the couch they’d apparently passed out on. “Jughead!”

Jughead grunts and snaps his eyes open, staring at her confusedly as if he's unsure what's happening until the knocking on the door persists loudly, forcing him to jump up from his disoriented position on the couch to the answer. Betty grabs her phone and sees the messages, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach. Oh no…

“Sheriff Keller?”

Hearing Jughead’s surprised sleep-laced voice makes Betty want to groan in mortification and shame at both falling asleep here at the drive-in, and knowing her mother had _of course_ called the authorities. She grabs her bag and rushes to the door, staring wide eyed at the Sheriff before the older man’s brow raises at her appearance. “Elizabeth Cooper?”

“Yessir.” she bites her lip in embarrassment, knowing the situation she’s just been found in looks far more scandalous than it actually is. “Did… my mom cause a riot?”

The older man's lips quirk slightly in amusement before his face falls back into seriousness. “That, she did. And she’s waiting at your house, ready to maim my deputies.” He runs a hand over his jaw before clearing his throat, almost somewhat awkwardly before speaking again, a more parental tone overtaking his professional one. “Now, I know hormones can cause a couple of kids like yourselves to act irresponsibly, but I'd like to remind you both that you're young, and accidents...happen. And I know I'm just an old man here, what do I know, right? Well, next time I would advise letting your families know you're staying out, okay?”

“Oh my god,” Betty hides behind her hands. 

Jughead chokes at the word 'hormones' and goes completely white at the rest. Oh god. This was _beyond_ mortifying.

"We weren't-" 

The Sheriff raises his hand, cutting her off as he lectures them for a few excruciating minutes more before offering them both a ride home. Jughead declines, evidently still tired and just as embarrassed as her, explaining that he has his bus before Betty hastens to sit inside the patrol car. Looking up at the beanie-clad boy through the window, she waves shortly and is relieved when he returns it with a somewhat equally abashed smile. The conversation of their abrupt and unintentional sleepover robbed by this hasty, unexpected line of events but she knows she'll have to bring it up and apologize the next time they speak. She must've fallen asleep without even realizing last night...

God.

Sheriff Keller allows her to sit in the front as they head off for the trailer park. A minute passes in silence before he’s glancing at her. When he speaks, she definitely knows he's got his own kids just based on the completely raw paternal look in his eye. “Your mother was very worried about you.”

“I didn’t run away!” She defends herself. “Really! Jughead and I are just friends! He let me use the restroom and we watched the movie and fell asleep—nothing happened!”

She doesn't have to defend herself, she doesn't even know this man. But still, she does so anyway.

“Well, speaking off the record as a dad, I’ll tell you that regardless of your intentions, the fear that goes through a parent’s mind when they don’t know where their kid is at is unlike anything in this world." he tells her gently, giving her a kind but equally scolding look all parent's seem to just excel at. "I wouldn’t judge your mom's actions too much, were I you.”

Betty slouches further in her seat, feeling chastised as well as irresponsible for passing out the way she did. It's so unlike her to be so comfortable in her surroundings that she just forgets everything around her, as well as her responsibilities. Honestly, she doesn’t know how it even happened. One minute she and Jughead were watching the movie and reminiscing about their childhood, and the next she’s waking up. She doesn't even remember being all that _tired_... just... comfortable. 

As they approach the trailer, Betty groans when she sees her mother outside on their porch with FP and her aunts, her arms waving all over the place as she argues with a deputy standing there and taking the words being hurdled at him. Her mother’s eyes snap to the car as they roll up and a fear like no other grips Betty as she steps out the passenger door and sees her mother stomp her way over to her.

“I can explain—” she begins to defend her case before she’s pulled into an unexpectedly rough embrace.

“Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again, Elizabeth.” Alice breathes into her hair, gripping tightly to the point she's nearly crushing her.

Betty feels terrible and hugs back just as tightly as she apologizes. She’d really thought she was in some deep shit coming home like this. Her eyes dart over to FP as he’s pulled to the side by Sheriff Keller, and before she can assure the man that his son is okay, she’s being ushered inside by her aunts until Polly and Sabrina come running down the hallway.

“You scared the shit out of me!” Polly slaps her arm before hugging her.

“Where did you run off to?” Sabrina asks after smothering her with yet another embrace. She and Polly share a glance before her cousin smirks. “Apparently Jughead was missing as well.”

The defense is on the tip of her tongue before her mother’s demanding answers, and one hour later, she’s showered and curled up in her bed, petting Caramel. Polly and Sabrina come in soon after and the two squish themselves under the covers with her, forcing an mock grunt of annoyance as she presses against the wall.

“So…?” Polly raises a brow, inclining her head forward.

Betty blinks in confusion. “What?”

Sabrina sits up and places Salem at their feet before turning toward her expectedly. “Hello? The details?" her hand waves dramatically as her ashen hair flies out of its messy bun. "I mean, you _slept_ with _Jughead Jones_!”

Betty sputters as her jaw drops with the crass statement. “We—Brina, we didn’t— _God_ , we didn’t _sleep_ together! I told you—”

“What?” Sabrina slumps, as if disappointed. “You were being honest about just 'sleeping' sleep?”

Polly snickers and places her hand on Betty’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m just glad your safe.”

“Well, yeah, me too but I was hoping for some juicier details.” Sabrina grumbles before falling back against the pillows. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Harvey, but Jughead is definitely some Grade A meat. Mysterious, brooding, elusive... I would not mind having a taste of him.”

“Oh my god.” Betty chokes on her own shocked amusement, staring wide-eyed at her cousin as the three of them laugh. Despite the jest in the words, Betty can’t help but feel her stomach flip the more she thinks about the situation. Everything had happened so fast, she really didn’t have time to process how good she’d slept. She’d also woken up against Jughead, her face against his chest.

He’d smelt so good, kind of like pine and smoke, now that she thinks about it… and he’d felt so warm, with his arm wrapped around her. She'd felt so... safe.

Betty presses a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat there as she meets Polly’s knowing gaze and Sabrina’s amused smirk. “You guys are just a bunch of horny busybodies.” she finally huffs, fighting the flustered feelings arising in her.

Polly laughs a loud, barking laugh, prompting the two of them to follow. She pushes her hair back and lays a hand against her chest in mock shock. “Do my ears deceive me? My baby sister using such _vulgar_ language!?”

Betty turns around and throws the blanket over her head, hidng her embarrassed smile into the pillow. She shouldn’t, but she feels a little giddy the longer she thinks about her ‘rebellious’ night out. “You guys are annoying. Go away.”

The three of them lay in bed for the rest of the morning, talking and watching videos on their phones before starting their day. Alice keeps a closer eye on her, and Betty feels annoyed until the Sheriff’s words from the patrol car repeat themselves in her head. She knows her mother is just worried, so she makes sure to keep close and ease her stress. 

“Honey, can you grab me some rosemary from the garden?” Zelda asks her as they prep dinner that night.

Her mom’s in the living room trying to teach Polly how to crochet while Sabrina and Hilda are in the middle of a serious chess match. And while Betty misses her brother and dad terribly, she's slowly becoming used to this strange dynamic between them all. Yes, there’s probably a bit too much estrogen cramped in such a small space, but it’s starting to feel like _home_.

Outside, Betty stops at the sight of FP on their back porch, stringing up some Christmas lights. By the looks of it, he's just about done. She hesitates to say something, wondering what his thoughts about her are now since being notified that she’d been with his son the whole night prior. Her inner panic is put to rest when he looks down and smiles genuinely at her.

“Hey, Betty.” He hangs one part of the lights up before stepping down the ladder. “I’m glad you got back safe this morning. Your mom…”

“Almost became the Hulk and nearly smashed through the town for answers?” Betty grins just the tiniest bit shyly.

“Something like that.” He chuckles, pulling at the ladder until it's tilted to lay in his arms.

Rubbing her elbow, she gives a guilty chuckle and tucks her hair behind her ear. “…I’m sorry if you were worried. Jughead and I really did just fall asleep, I swear—”

FP places his free hand on her shoulder, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Betty. I know my son. He’s smart, and from what he tells me, you are too. I trust him to make responsible decisions.”

Betty parts her lips as a rush of butterflies sweep up her abdomen. “He... Jughead talks about me?”

The older man’s grin twitches as he fights back a bigger smile. “You’d better get that rosemary." he nods to the garden, "Tell Zelda the lights are all strung up, will you?”

She nods, not missing the way he’d avoided her question but had somehow answered with his expression all the same. As she picks the herbs from their spot by the small white gate, Betty can’t help but glance to the Jones’ trailer. She sees FP walk into his home and hears some music come through the open door before it shuts behind him.

Jughead remembers her from their childhood. He talks about her to his dad.

God. 

As her stomach flips for the umpteenth time that day, Betty starts to wonder, what sort of spell does this Jughead Jones have her under?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd
> 
> i know there's a shit ton of errors bc i literally nodded off when 'proof-reading' bout five or six times.

> ▱◯♕

Jughead isn’t at school during their last week before Christmas break, and FP also isn’t around. They’re not home for a full two days before Betty starts to worry. 

Christmas is a little than a week away and she wonders if they went to visit his mom and sister for the holidays. It’s the most likely thing, but she swears Jughead would’ve told her had the trip been planned.

It’s not as though they’re best friends, or anything—but they’ve got this… _thing_ going on between them. Some weird middle where they know intimate details about each other, but yet, don’t hang out at school.

She doesn’t linger on details. All she knows is that he would have told her if he’d been planning on leaving.

While she and Jug haven’t exchanged phone numbers, Betty knows FP and Zelda have an amicable relationship, so when her eldest aunt comes home first that evening, her arms filled with a pot of leftover stew she’d taken to work for some Christmas party, Betty helps carry it to the table before gripping onto the chair in contemplation on how to word her question.

“Hey, Zelda…”

“Yes, dear?” her aunt asks, pulling her moon glasses on to look over some paper she’s pulled out of her purse.

She worries her lip, wondering if she’s just being silly in worrying over the Jones men at all. They’re probably fine. It’s just… his sister. It’s not her business, Betty knows that. But that doesn’t make her any less concerned.

“Have you talked with FP lately?” she shrugs, feigning nonchalance as she fingers the wilting petals of carnations on the table. “I mean, I just haven’t seen them around, is all.”

“Oh,” Zelda frowns, looking almost at a loss for words as she lowers the glasses from the bridge of her nose until they rest back over her collarbone. “Yes, they’re out of town for the holiday.”

Betty’s not dumb enough to miss the subtle hesitation in her aunt’s voice in the explanation. She probably knows a lot more than she’s letting on, but she supposes since she and FP are good friends, she’s perhaps guarding their more personal things with her secrecy. Still… curiosity killed the cat.

“Is it because of Jellybean?” she bites her lip as Zelda’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You know about Forsythia?”

The name makes Betty’s nose crinkle in sympathy, but she focuses back to the situation at hand. “Jughead mentioned her a couple times. I just… she’s okay, isn’t she?”

Zelda looks at her for a beat too long before sighing and moving to put a kettle of water onto the stove. “Her illness is getting worse. FP and Jughead went while they could. I know a few people who helped make the trip there happen.”

“Oh.” She feels a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the explanation registers with her. Oh, she can’t even imagine the heartache the Jones family is going through in this moment. Jughead and FP are good people—perhaps a little rough around the edges, but still good men. She has no doubt the rest of their family is the same way.

There’s nothing she can do for them, and she knows Jughead is the type of person who would turn away from her pity—but it’s not pity. Not really. She just feels struck with emotion the longer she thinks on it. “I really hope she recovers. She’s so young.”

“Indeed, she is.” Zelda sighs sadly. “No child should have to endure that kind of pain. And no parent, for that matter.”

“I just wish there was something I could do to help.” Betty grimaces, leaning against the counter and crossing her feet at her ankles as she drifts off into thought.

Zelda opens her mouth like she’s going to say something before closing it shut as if deciding not to voice what’s on her mind after all. “You know,” she finally speaks after a minute of silence as she pours the boiling water into two teacups. “I always find the answers to my problems are closer than I realize.”

“If you say in your heart, I might gag.” Betty grins lightly, stepping forward as Zelda laughs and places their tealeaves in to steep.

“Here.” She raises her index finger to tap at Betty’s forehead. “You have the power to change any part of your life, Elizabeth. Never forget that.”

For some reason, Betty can’t help but feel her aunt is speaking in riddles.

… … …

That night, Betty’s dragged to a Christmas party by Polly and Sabrina. Fortunately, she knows the hostess—one Miss Veronica Lodge.

She’s not exactly comfortable here, but it’s better than being home for another night playing scrabble with Hilda before she passes out drunk. Looking down at her phone, Betty bobs her knee as she sits on an expensive looking leather armchair and cranes her neck around to find any signs of her sister. It’s already eleven o’ clock, and she’d been promised they’d leave before midnight.

Of course, Polly looks absolutely thrashed as she stumbles into the living room, brushing past a sea of fellow High Schoolers. “Wh-Where’s .. Brina? SABRINA?!”

Betty cringes, standing up to help her sister move to the couch. Jason looks at her guiltily and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t know she was such a lightweight.”

Ignoring the guy her sister seems to be fawning over lately, Betty wraps an arm around her and struggles to get the two of them onto the couch. Jason tries to help, but he’s jostled to the side in the sea of peers and honestly? She’s not too concerned on waiting for him.

“God, Pol, you’re supposed to be the older mature one, remember?”

“Bett—Betty,” Polly hiccups, cupping her cheek as she lowers her ungracefully onto the sofa. “I just, I love you _so_ much. I do.”

Despite her irritation, Betty’s lips quirk at the sentiment and she reaches over to the water bottle she’d had propped by the armchair.

“Here.”

Jason. Of course.

The redhead is moving to crouch beside her, his eyes studying Polly’s form worriedly as he hands betty an honest to god hankerchief. It even has cute red stitching on the side with the initials _J.B._ sewn into the cloth.

Dabbing the material with water, she wipes at Polly’s face, noticing now the few traces of vomit on her lips. “She threw up?”

“In the bathroom, luckily.” Jason nods, twirling a silver band on his finger in a nervous tick.

Betty inspects her sister’s hair and notices there’s no trace of damage there.

“I tried to hold her hair back.” Jason admits, just the faintest traces of a blush creeping onto his ears. “She was moving around a lot though.”

Her irritation for the boy dwindles at that and she gives a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. If I had known she would’ve gotten thrashed within the first hour of being here, I would’ve tied her down and forced her to stay home.”

Jason laughs lightly, turning his gaze from her sister and onto her. “Ah, she’s not so bad. She did an impressive keg stand. Even Bones was cheering her on.”

“Oh, wow.” Betty groans, wondering where the hell she was for _that_ embarrassing display. Turning toward him, she gives a grateful nod and sits back on her heels once Polly’s cleaned up. “Thanks for watching over her. I know you guys are like… I don’t know? A _thing_ , or something?”

Jason’s ears are bright red now, his lips turned upward as his eyes flicker back to her sister’s unconscious form. “She said that?”

“Uh.” Betty’s lips part as a feeling of panic surges inside her. Crap, was that supposed to be a secret? Polly really needed to work on clarifying things for her.

Before Jason can answer, the sound of yelling from the doorway has them both turning their heads in alarm to the voices. Betty, because she hears Sabrina, and Jason, because he hears Harvey.

“What the hell?”

“I’ll go check it out.” Jason frowns, standing up and rushing toward the crowd of people now blocking Betty’s view.

_“—tried slipping something into her drink! I’ll fucking kill you, man! I’ll fucking—”_

_“Harvey, stop!”_

_“Come on, Kinkle! You gonna pussy out now?”_

There’s a grunt of pain and a collective “ _oooh_!” from the crowd of drunk teens before the loud of splintering wood and shattering glass directly behind Betty has her jumping to her feet in fright. Her body twists, standing protectively in front of her sister but, what she sees startles her more than the noise itself.

Harvey’s on the floor in the middle of the broken coffee table, his hand held up to his face as blood spurts from his nose through the crevices of his fingers.

“Oh, my god!” she kneels beside him, wary of the broken wood sticking up in odd ends amidst the scattered glass.

“You son of a bitch!” Sabrina’s voice snaps furiously among the chaos. There’s another roar of exclamations from the crowd and Betty barely catches the sight of her cousin jumping onto the back of another tall Riverdale jock, her arms locking around his throat as she grits her teeth in fury.

The guy’s bloodshot eyes narrow in similar rage, his arms jutting behind him to pull the tiny blonde from off his back. “Get— _off_!”

There’s too much happening at once for Betty to even gain her footing as the blonde haired punk slams her cousin against the wall, his larger body crushing her own as the drywall cracks and splinters at the force. It’s only then that the crowd of teens begin to lose their excitement for a fight as real danger settles in.

Betty can’t see Sabrina’s face, but she can see the blood her nails are drawing from the boy’s face as she tries to claw her way out from another body slam. Pushing her way through the already scattering and split groups of people, Betty calls out Sabrina’s name and screams for someone to help. Surprisingly, it’s Harvey who stumbles past her, his nose swollen and _very_ broken.

He raises his fists up and tries to punch the jock before the guy lifts his boot and sends her friend back onto the ground with a kick to the groin.

“Let go of her! Let go!” Betty picks up the nearest object, which happens to be a half empty beer bottle, and smashes it over the jock’s head in one of those _in the moment type_ of thoughts. Her body’s trembling, whether in adrenaline or fear for her cousin’s life, she has no idea.

It’s by his nearly impossible reaction to what should normally stagger a grown man, let alone a teenager, that has Betty truly fear for their safety. He’s obviously high on something very strong, and drugs and violence are a very terrible combination.

There’s the glint of camera phone’s going off and people recording, but nobody steps in to help.

Nobody but Bones.

The guy Jughead seemed to dislike yanks at the blonde jock’s collar and slams him into the other wall, the two of them getting in a tussle now as Betty immediately dives to Sabrina’s side when noticing her cousin sliding onto the floor in a daze.

“Get him out of my house! _Now_!” Her small fists clenched in fury, Veronica Lodge glares viciously at the teens still lingering with their phones out. “If you’re not all out of my house by the count of ten, I will personally make the rest of your _pathetic_ high schools lives a living hell! _TEN_!”  

Her shrill shriek is music to Betty’s ears as everyone begins to disperse in a drunken stupor.

“Sabrina?” Betty crouches down, cupping her cousin’s cheeks as she examines the damage. There’s a lot of blood, but upon closer inspection, it’s just a small head wound. “We have to get you to the hospital. You and Harvey. Come on!”

Harvey is knocked out cold, and Betty feels an insane amount of stress rattling her nerves right now as she tries not to think of the side effects passing out with a concussion will do.

“No,” Sabrina shakes her head, wincing at the movement before trying to push herself onto her feet.

Betty frowns, not having the patience for her family’s stubbornness right now. “I wasn’t asking you. We’re going! I’m not taking any chances. And look at Harvey! He _needs_ to go.”

Wrong thing to say it seems.

Sabrina drops down to her boyfriend’s unconscious form, shaking his shoulders lightly. “Harvey? Harv? Oh god—”

“The ambulance is on their way.” The quick click of Veronica’s heels rushing toward their direction bring no peace of mind to Betty. She honestly can’t believe any of that just happened—that all of this is happening _now_!

“Who the hell was that guy?!” she croaks out emotionally, her nerves coiled up the longer the adrenaline begins to fade from out of her. Using the hanky Jason earlier let her borrow for Polly’s sake, she moves forward to dab at Harvey’s lips, hoping to part them for air flow.

“Vincent Montgomery.” Veronica says, furrowing her brows as she steps closer in an awkward manner, asking without words if they need assistance. “I’ve never seen him act like that before though. I… Archie said he saw him slip something into Sabrina’s drink, and when she’d sniffed it, she said it smelled funny.”

Betty’s eyes dart to her cousin, catching the way her lips move silently as her fingers tug at her ear. Concern for her skyrockets at the incoherent mumbling, and just as she’s about to ask what the ETA on the ambulance is, Harvey’s eyes pop open as a ragged gasp for air causes the group of them to flinch back in frightened surprise.

Sabrina dips her head, tears of relief clinging to her lashes as she carefully hugs him. “You’re okay, Harv. You’re all right.”

“Don’t move him!” Betty raises her hand as the glint of glass poking out from the back of his head forces her to her feet. “Oh no, I—I think he must’ve slammed his head against some glass.”

From the couch, Polly begins to cry in her drunken manner and it’s almost in perfect sync to the wails of the sirens coming from down the street and up the road.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, Betty knows there’s one call she has to make… no matter how much she dreads it.

Her mother.


End file.
